


the love in each of our hearts

by ohallows



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: (what is this a crossover episode), Adoption, F/F, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Single dad Zolf, so does the rqg extended universe, the smith cinematic universe exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 16:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: Janice apparently had a kid. A daughter, to be specific, which is making Zolf’s head roll. He doesn’t know how she’d kept it under wraps for five years, even if she’d moved abroad and basically cut contact with the family after the divorce from Leonardo. And now… the kid is meant to be his.Zolf hasn’t spoken to his cousin in at least a decade; probably not since right after university, but before the Royal Navy accident that had left Zolf a traumatized mess who was missing a leg. But that’s not important, now - he’s getting therapy, and it’s fine, and more importantly, apparently his cousin thought that he would be the best candidate to take care of a kid that he’s never even met before.





	the love in each of our hearts

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA YOU FUCKERS THOUGHT I WAS EXCITED FOR TODAY BC IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY YOU WERE WRONG ITS BC I CAN FINALLY POST THIS HAHA take my love.
> 
> i am taking some liberties w how laws work. do you know how many family and child law blogs i read. anyway single dad aus are the BEST
> 
> the cowards braincell is both myself and connor writing 'a smith brother adopts a child and doesn't tell the other' completely independently of each other lol
> 
> *also peep that fucking wordcount bitches this was unintentional but it was 17997 and so i added three words*

A loud buzzing noise jolts Zolf from his sleep, and he sits up in bed, disorientated as he blinks blearily around the room. It’s still dark out, which could mean anything thanks to the blackout curtains he’d invested in, so he pulls his phone from the nightstand and squints down at the screen. It’s gone past eight, and Zolf muffles his groan as he falls back down into the pillows. 

It had been a late night at hospital - enough caffeine had made its rounds through Zolf’s body that he’d been more than a little jittery when he’d finally gotten back to his flat ‘round four and collapsed onto his bed. Falling asleep had been a chore, as it always is after a long shift, but he’d gotten there eventually. 

The buzzing starts again and Zolf swears _loudly_ into his pillow, sitting up unsteadily and calling out a, “Just a minute!” in the general direction of the door, muttering under his breath about people who come to call at ungodly hours of the morning. It takes him a moment to put the prosthetic on, fingers fumbling through the steps they know like clockwork, and then he’s on his feet, still grumbling as he stomps toward the door, throwing it open. 

“Good morning, Mr. Smith,” says a relatively young woman standing outside, dark-skinned and much too _smiley_ for this early in the morning. “My name is Bette Jones, and I work for Somerset County Council, do you have a minute?”

Zolf really, _really _doesn’t, not when sleep is still pulling at his eyes and his head is screaming at him to get some rest, but Feryn didn’t raise him to be rude, so he pastes a clearly fake smile on his face and nods. 

“Lovely!” Bette says, giving him another sunny smile, and pulls out a folder and clipboard she’d been holding behind her back. “This hopefully shouldn’t take too long, just have to finish up - “

“Listen,” Zolf says, cutting her off, “if this is anything to do with politics, I’m not interested, I haven’t ever voted Tory and won’t ever, so if that’s the goal, then you don’t need to launch into your spiel, or whatever, cheers.” 

Bette gives him a confused look. “Poli - no, no, I’m here on behalf of Child Services? I’m a social worker, I -“ she glances down at her clipboard, clearly frazzled. “You - You are Zolf Smith, correct? Brother to Feryn Smith, nurse at Willow Ward?”

Zolf grips the doorknob, out of her eyesight, and frowns. “Er, yeah? Wait. Sorry, did you just say Child Services?” Zolf says, blinking rapidly as though it’ll change what he heard. 

“Yes?” she responds, drawing out the syllable as she raises an eyebrow at him. “I’ve been sent out to let you know that your cousin, ah -“ she checks her clipboard, “Janice? Janice Smith? She’s given up her parental rights to her daughter, Erika, and is transferring them to you… er, she says you agreed to be a kinship carer, way back when? After her wedding, I believe.”

Zolf’s pretty sure he looks like a goldfish, jaw working as he tries to figure out _which_ part of that statement to process first. Bette must cotton on to the panic slowly building in his veins, because she gasps and claps her hands over her mouth.

“Did you not… know?” Bette says. “Oh, bollocks, I didn’t - I thought you’d been expecting me! Shite, I’m so sorry, did Janice not - of course not, gosh, -“

Zolf tunes out the social worker’s stammered apologies as he tries to make some sort of sense of all this. So. Janice apparently had a kid. A daughter, to be specific, which is making Zolf’s head roll. He doesn’t know how she’d kept it under wraps for five years, even if she’d moved abroad and basically cut contact with the family after the divorce. 

And now… the kid is meant to be _his._

Zolf hasn’t spoken to Janice in at least a decade, and has had no reason to keep up with Leonardo, although according to Feryn, who is one of the rungs of the Smith gossip ladder that includes another one of their cousins, Rainbow, he ran off with an old college flame of his and rocketed to the top of the figure skating scene in Europe. Janice hadn’t remarried, but apparently she had gotten pregnant, as Zolf was _just now finding out, _ta very much. And he’d - well, apparently he’d signed on to it. He may, _may_, remember agreeing to take care of whatever future children Leo and Janice might have, ribbing Feryn because he was the one they’d picked, but that had to have been… god, _years_ ago. Probably right after university, but before the Royal Navy accident that had left Zolf a traumatized mess who was missing a leg. But that’s not important, now - he’s getting therapy, and it’s _fine_, and more importantly, apparently his cousin thought that _he _would be the best candidate to take care of a kid that he’s never even met before. It’d be almost laughable if every nerve in Zolf’s body hadn’t immediately tensed up at the thought. 

It’s not even that Zolf doesn’t want kids - whenever he pictures the distant future, there have always been children _involved_, whether his own or his partner’s, or both of theirs, but it hadn’t seemed too much of a reality what with the honourable discharge from the Navy and then the years of getting back on his feet, going to nursing school, and finishing up his residency. 

But. He - hadn’t been expecting it this _soon_, is all. Had pictured someone else in the picture, someone else to stress with about getting it all wrong.

Not… this. Not getting a kid foisted on him by his cousin, who apparently just _doesn’t want her anymore._

Janice has never been the best decision maker, but _honestly_, this is low even for her. And, really, what _had _Janice been thinking when she and Leonardo had gotten married? The blushing groom-to-be was clearly mooning over his best man, who had _clearly _been mooning back, it was painful to - 

It’s probably not the best time to examine his cousin’s motivations - they were distant relations at _best_, even if they all had been a mite closer when they were younger, him, Feryn, and Janice. Helped that they’d all lived in nearly the same town. Until she’d met Leonardo in year five and had gone off to uni with him, ice dancing on the side.

“She… never told me that she had a kid,” he says, at a loss for what else to say, and Bette gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“Gosh, this must be a shock to you, then,” she says, with an awkward laugh that Zolf doesn’t have the mental energy to return. “I’m really very sorry, Mr. Smith, I didn’t realize - I thought she’d already reached out to you.”

“Communicating isn’t my cousin’s strong suit,” Zolf mutters under his breath. They stand there for a moment in an awkward silence that stretches, even though it can’t be more than 10 seconds before he remembers himself and opens the door a bit wider.

“Would, er, would you like to come in?” he offers, and steps back out of the doorway. Bette smiles at him, gratefully, and nods. 

“Thank you,” she says, and heads inside, shuffling her folders and papers as she does. “Again, I’m so sorry, no one informed me -“

“It’s - it’s fine,” Zolf says, and quietly shuts the door behind her. “Janice can be… like this. Not your fault.”

Bette still looks apologetic and embarrassed, so Zolf just sighs and ushers her into the kitchen, trying not to think about the stack of unwashed dishes in the sink or the dirty towels sitting on the counter. 

“I understand that this is, well, quite the surprise for you. If you aren’t interested - you do have options, Mr. Smith,” Bette says.

“Zolf, please,” he automatically corrects, and gestures for her to take a seat. “Earl Grey?”

“Would love a cup. No milk, no sugar.” 

Zolf gets the kettle going and does some cursory cleaning up while listening to Bette shuffle through her folder. The kettle whistles before long and he pours them both a cup, adding sugar into his own and nothing into Bette’s. He brings both cups over and hands one to Bette, who takes it with a soft, “Cheers,” blowing at it to cool it down. 

“You said I was Janice’s choice… why not anyone else - what about the dad?” Zolf asks. “Can’t Leonardo take it?” 

Bette shakes her head. “Leonardo isn’t the biological father - he didn’t know the girl existed either. Janice wouldn’t tell us who the real father was, nor would she submit her to a DNA test. Apparently, Janice kept her mostly a secret up until she… didn’t want her, anymore. We contacted Leonardo and his husband, but they’re currently on an extended holiday abroad, and don’t actually have any legal rights to the child.”

“Wait, Leo’s not the dad? _Christ_, Janice,” Zolf mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “Fine. So it’s all up to me, then, is it?”

“Zolf,” Bette says, reaching out and resting her hand atop his. “You don’t have to take her. We can try exploring the other options available to you, or we can find another family member who can take her in temporarily, until a better alternative is found.”

“Better than her being taken in by a relative?” he asks, and Bette shrugs.

“The foster care system can work miracles, if you let it.”

“Or the kid can be trapped with a family they don’t love, or sucked into the system,” Zolf counters, raising an eyebrow at her. “I know enough kids it hasn’t worked for.”

Bette smiles at him, but it looks distant. “So have I. But it _can _work, Zolf. Or if there’s another family member who comes to mind, we can see about transferring the rights to them. But Janice was very specific about the child’s care, and she is still the mother. We have to honour her wishes as well.”

Zolf frowns. “Why the bloody hell did she give her up anyway? You can’t just - can’t just toss a kid out because you don’t want them anymore. That’s messed up.”

Bette shakes her head. “Sorry, but that’s privileged information - I can't share any details about the reasoning behind Janice’s decision with you, it wouldn’t be fair to her.”

He’d expected as much, but he’s still disappointed to hear it. It’s not Bette’s fault, obviously, but if Janice really wanted to give her daughter up, Zolf thinks she should at least be comfortable explaining why. His feelings must show on his face, because Bette makes a sympathetic noise and reaches out, resting her hand on his.

“Zolf, we could try something -“

“I’ll take her,” Zolf decides, fists clenching and unclenching under the table. Honestly, it had been decided since Bette had first shown up on his doorstep. He’s not going to leave a kid out in the cold. 

“Are you sure?” Bette asks, and Zolf nods, determined. “It’s a load of responsibility.”

“I’m sure. What’s the whole... process?” Zolf asks, pulling a random opened envelope toward himself and grabbing one of the many pens laying on the table so he can take notes.

“Well, first the Local Authority will have to evaluate whether or not you meet the criteria for being a foster carer. They’ll run a few background checks, speak to a few people, evaluate your health and any disabilities, and a few other steps. If you pass the first stage, they’ll interview you about more personal things - religion, employment, previous experience, all of that. I’ll be running most of it,” Bette says, giving him a wink, “so I promise to be understanding. This isn’t a rare situation, but it is an uncommon one.

“After the assessment, I’ll provide a report to the Local Authority and the Fostering Panel will decide whether or not to approve you. Hopefully we can expedite the process, but it will most likely take a few months.”

Zolf finishes jotting down his notes in shorthand and frowns. “Where is she staying during all of this?”

“There’s a local foster shelter - they’ve taken her in and will take good care of her while we go through the process. On that note, you’ll get a fostering allowance for education and other necessities if you get approved as well, since this is all being organized through the Local Authority rather than a private arrangement.”

That's good to know - Zolf still hasn’t touched his lump sum of money after he was discharged from the Royal Navy once he’d lost his leg, and he still gets the Guaranteed Income Payment from the AFCS every month, so he isn’t completely strapped for cash but it’s nice knowing that help is available if he needs. 

“Zolf,” Bette says, putting the folder down. “Are you sure you want to do this? Taking in a child can be… a huge responsibility, if you’re not ready for it.”

“I’m sure,” Zolf says. He is; that bit not a lie. He's also absolutely _terrified_, but he knows he can do this. It’s not something he thought would happen, but the longer he thinks about it the more sure he is about the entire thing. 

He’s sure. More sure about this than he’s been about anything in a while. Maybe since deciding to become a nurse and help people. 

Bette leaves shortly after that, reaching over to give Zolf a firm handshake that turns into a brief hug. 

“I’ll be in touch when I know more from the council,” she says, squeezing him tightly, and Zolf nods. ”Take care, Zolf.”

“You too, Bette. And… thanks.”

She steps down and heads briskly off down the pavement, while Zolf shuts the door behind himself and leans back against the wood. 

So. He supposes he has a kid now. Or will, whenever the paperwork is completed and she’s officially his responsibility.

Might as well get out ahead of it now. Time to get to work. 

—

Child-proofing a flat is. More work than Zolf had expected, to be honest. It might have been easier for a baby - they can’t move independently for a while, but getting ready for a five-year-old is a little bit different. It means moving all the dangerous stuff to shelves that are too high for her to reach, locking all the cleaning supplies away under the sink, Zolf moving all his meds into his own bathroom and keeping them behind the mirror, and getting protective covers for all the outlets, just in case. She’s five, and he might be going a bit overboard, but he’d rather do it up a bit too much than not enough. 

He doesn’t think that he needs child locks on the doorknobs; he thinks she’s old enough to know where to go and to not open the front door whenever, or any of that rot. He solicits some advice for co-workers on what else he can do - only a few of them have kids and all their advice is helpful. He brushes off their curiosity by explaining that his younger cousin is coming to stay with him, which isn’t too much of a lie. They all seem mollified, although Julien presses for a bit more detail until Zolf is able to escape the conversation. 

Child-proofing is one thing. Transforming his guest room into a room suitably fit for a five-year-old is a horse of a different colour. Plus, he still isn’t _really _telling anyone yet, mostly because he isn’t sure what to tell them (springing “I have a kid now!” on someone may be a tad much), so it’s all work he’s doing on his own. 

It isn’t as difficult as he thought it would be; he paints the walls a soft blue and is able to get a new bed frame at a rummage sale, a nice yellow that brightens up the room. He already had an old mattress in there just sitting on the floor for whenever Feryn got a bit pissed and spent the night rather than driving home, so that’s that sorted. A few decorations later, a new dresser and nightstand pair, and a chest for toys in the corner, and it’s good to go. 

Bette helps with some of the more menial tasks (mostly giving him advice about different care options - strictly advice, not recommendations, because he hasn’t officially been approved, as she says), which Zolf appreciates. It’s in her job description and all, but it’s rather nice having someone else in his corner. He still hasn’t told Feryn about it, and Sasha’s out of the country doing something secretive that she refused to tell him about, and there’s… no one else, honestly. No one he knows well enough, at least. He has a few friends at work, of course, but he isn’t sure how any of them would be able to help. 

This is a, well. Rather unique situation, at that. 

There’s also the matter of education, and child care, and health care, and insurance, and a whole host of other things that Zolf may not have thought about when he said he’d take Erika in, but he doesn’t regret the decision. Not in the slightest. 

He’ll figure it out. He’s got time - he’ll make the initial arrangements, mainly cause he’s mostly sure that the council is going to approve him, unless the honourable discharge from the military or the therapy disqualifies him, but Bette had told him not to worry about it, and he’s inclined to believe her. 

It’s mostly a ‘hurry up and wait’ situation at the moment. The room is all ready to go, and he’s spoken to HR at the hospital to see how adding a child to his insurance would work. Thankfully, it won’t be difficult; just some paperwork, which seems to be the way his life is going at the moment. Bette’s been by a few times with forms he needs to sign as well.

Work is just as hectic as ever, with a significant lack of down time. Zolf had a meeting with his supervisor about using up some of the vacation time he’s gotten stocked up (the benefit of rarely taking vacation days is that when you really need them, there's an entire stockpile to pull from), so if-slash-when it all works out, Zolf will be able to spend a few days at home with Erika to help her get acclimated, instead of sending her right off to a school to meet all new people. 

He and Feryn moved around a lot after their parents died - Zolf had been a bit older than Erika by that point, but he remembers how unsettled and off he’d always felt when they were being shunted off to another relative’s for some undetermined amount of time. 

Feryn had always had his back - that’s probably a big part of why they’re still so close now. 

The point is, Zolf wants Erika to feel safe here. To feel settled. He has no plans to give her up anytime soon, and he wants to help her make this a home. 

He still doesn’t know why Janice gave her up - Bette can’t tell him, and the Smith gossip line is failing in a spectacular way, completely unable to find her. Zolf should get Feryn on it, he’s much closer with that side of the family than Zolf had ever been, but he still hasn’t told Feryn about her yet. He wants to wait for it to become official before he goes announcing it - just in case. He doesn’t _really _believe in superstition, not as much as Feryn does, at least, but he still doesn’t want to curse anything. 

Still. He gets the flat done in a reasonable amount of time, and then he’s just waiting to see what the council says and waiting on tenterhooks for Bette to call him. 

In the end, it takes about as long as Bette had predicted. The background check that they’d run on Zolf had come back without any issues, which he’d expected. It’s not like he really gets up to much nowadays, not with how much he works. 

Her explaining the entire process to him had helped loads, and it had been just as convoluted as he’d expected. But it’s all through, and he’s approved, and all that’s really left is to move Erika into his flat. 

Bette makes all the arrangements, and Zolf puts in his vacation time requests, and circles the date on his calendar. And then it’s more waiting - less time than before, only a few days, but it’s still enough time for Zolf to run the entire stress gamut in his head. 

He’s gotten better at dealing with it, though, thanks in no small part to his therapist helping him work through most of it. Scheduling an appointment for the day before Erika shows up was a strategic move, on his part, and JJ is good at keeping him calm. 

So, he does his breathing exercises, and centers himself, and then there’s a knock at the door, Bette showing up right on the dot as always. Zolf takes another deep breath, pastes a smile on his face, and opens the door to Bette and a small child standing in front of him, looking distinctly put out as she clings on to Bette’s hand like it’s her only lifeline. 

God, she looks like Janice, too, with her dark, spiky hair. 

“Erika, this is Zolf. Zolf, Erika.” The kid is small, is one of the first thing Zolf notices. Not unhealthily so, or anything, but smaller than Zolf was expecting. She doesn’t look _fragile_ exactly, but there’s something skittish in her eyes, like she’s on the verge of running away at any moment. 

“Hi, Erika,” Zolf says, and the girl stares up at him, eyes wide. “My name is Zolf.”

“You’re going to be staying with Zolf, alright, sweetheart?” Bette says, crouching down next to her. 

“She says you know my mummy,” Erika says, still looking a little wary as she glances up at Zolf, and squeezes Bette’s hand a little bit tighter.

“Ah, yeah, I’m your mum’s cousin. Distant, though,” Zolf says. 

Erika frowns. “How come mummy never talked about you?”

“Not… sure?” Zolf says, looking over to Bette with a thinly-veiled cry for help. Bette picks up on it and stands up again, ushering Erika in through the door while Zolf steps aside. They head in toward the kitchen, Bette navigating the flat with familiarity while Erika trails behind her, glancing around at everything with wide eyes.

Bette leads her over to the kitchen and pulls out a chair for her. Erika hops up obediently and Bette leans on the back of the chair. Zolf finds his own spot by the counter and leans back against it, hands resting on the edge.

“I’ve explained most of the situation to Erika - what I could,” Bette explains. “Erika, can you tell Zolf what I told you?” 

Erika sits on her hands and swings her legs back and forth on the chair. “You said I’m staying with mummy’s cousin, who’s also my cousin, and his name is Zolf and I’m staying here for as long as I want to.”

“Well done,” Bette says, reaching over to pat Erika on the back. Erika beams up at her with a toothy grin.

“I’m a good listener, all my teachers said so,” Erika says, and Bette gives her a wink. 

“Do you have any questions, love?” Bette says, and Erika shrugs before shaking her head no. 

“Well, I’ll leave you both to it,” Bette says brightly, packing up her things. “Zolf, I’ll call you soon about meeting dates, yes?”

“Sure, Bette,” he says, almost wishing she would stay behind just so that Erika felt more comfortable. 

“Have a good day, you two! Bye, love,” she says, leaning down to give Erika a hug. She shakes Zolf’s hand and waves to the both of them as she leaves, and then Zolf and Erika are left alone in the flat. 

“D’you… want to see your room?” Zolf asks. “I’ve painted it, and everything.”

“Yeah,” Erika says, quiet. She doesn’t seem scared, more... unsure of everything, but she does still slide off of the seat as Zolf heads down the hallway, padding along behind him quietly. 

He pushes the door open and she heads in, straight over to the bed as she hops up, sitting cross-legged.

“Do you like the colour?” he asks, and Erika nods from where she sits.

“It’s my favourite,” she says, and Zolf hides his sigh of relief. He’d been willing to repaint it if she’d hated it, obviously, but painting a room is a task and a half and he really doesn’t want to have to set up the tarp again. 

She glances around at the dresser, nightstand, and the small toy box in the corner of the room, taking everything in as her eyes roam. Zolf stands there and waits, leaning against the door jamb. He looks down at his watch and figures he can get supper started soon, and when he looks back Erika’s forehead is scrunched up as she sits there, staring ahead at the wall.

“Something on your mind?” Zolf asks. 

“Do I have to call you Daddy?” she asks, and Zolf shrugs. 

“Only if you want to. You can just call me Zolf, if you’d like.”

She takes a moment, brow scrunching up as she thinks, and then nods. “Okay. Zolf.”

“Do you want me to call you something other than Erika?”

“No,” she says, giving him a confused look. “That’s my name.”

Fair enough. Zolf rubs at the back of his neck, feeling more than a little awkward, and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“Do you… want to see the rest of the flat?” he asks, and Erika nods. He heads out of the room and shows her to the main bathroom, where his room is, a quick pass by of the kitchen once more, and then they both end up in the family room.

“What’s this?” Erika asks, poking at the set of Zolf’s scrubs hanging over the side of the couch. He picks them and folds them quickly, setting them down a bit more neatly on the couch. 

“That’s, ah - this is my work uniform, he says. 

“Where do you work?”

“I work at hospital,” Zolf explains, and Erika tilts her head, confused. “I, ah - help people who are sick.”

“Are you a doctor?” Erika asks, eyes going wide, and Zolf shakes his head.

“No, I’m a nurse.”

“I thought nurses were only girls.” 

Zolf shakes his head. “No, it’s not - anyone can be a nurse, really. Just like girls - women - can be doctors.”

“Oh. Okay,” Erika says. 

They sit in silence for a moment, and Zolf wonders if children understand the concept of awkwardness or if he’s the only one feeling like he’s completely out of sorts. 

“Do you… want anything particular for dinner?” he asks, and Erika shrugs. 

“I like pasta, and peanut butter, and toast, and bananas, and apples, and chicken, and broccoli, and -“

“Okay, okay, got it, so does pasta sound good?” Zolf asks. Erika nods, perking up. 

“Can I just have butter and cheese?” she asks, excitedly, and Zolf shrugs. 

“Don’t see why not.”

Erika follows him back to the kitchen, talking about all her favourite foods, and Zolf takes mental notes for future. She perches on one chair while he cooks, peering over at him. 

Dinner is a quiet affair - Zolf isn’t really sure what to talk about anymore, and Erika is shovelling her food into her mouth and not speaking.

It’s a bit awkward, yeah. But they’ll get used to it in time. 

—

“How on _earth_ are you supposed to choose a school?” Zolf complains to Bette one day, with nearly twenty tabs pulled up on his laptop and close to tearing his hair out. Bette sits next to him and frees the laptop from near death by crushing with how hard Zolf is clutching at it, squinting down at the screen.

There’s Briarsforth, a private school, and fuck it if Zolf’s sending a kid there. Or Woodsbridge, which is a bit farther away but has a lot more clubs she can join than Stow. There’s also Allenswold, but Zolf quickly tosses that one in the discard pile when he sees the ratio of teacher to student is 1:100. He doesn’t remember a lot of his primary school experience, but he knows that that’s not going to fly. 

Bette pulls up a couple of links, fingers flying across the keyboard, and hands the laptop back to Zolf. “Here - these are usually the schools that parents have gone with in the past. We’ve only gotten good reviews from most of them, and they all feed into wonderful secondary schools. Pick whichever one you’d like.” 

Zolf heaves a sigh of relief, scrolling through the schools that Bette had picked out. “Cheers - what would I do without you?” 

“Perish the thought,” Bette says, chipper as ever, and Zolf smiles. “It’s my job to make sure you and Erika are both happy with the situation, and this is the best way to make sure that happens.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Bette,” Zolf says gratefully, before turning back to the laptop and clicking through the different schools. They all seem mostly similar - same programs, similar teacher to student ratio, similar acceptance rates… in the end, it comes down to location, and Zolf closes the other tabs and picks one closest to the hospital he works at, just to be safe - Ridgewood Primary School. 

“So, we’ll go with… this one?” Zolf asks, tilting the screen toward Bette. She nods. “Fine. Good. That’s that sorted, then. How the hell do we enrol her? And it’s halfway through the year, _gods_, she’s going to be the new kid, _shite.”_

“Kids are resilient,” Bette says mildly. “And its only year 1, she’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Zolf isn’t completely sure, but he’ll keep a close eye on it. Hopefully Bette is right and they won’t have to worry about it, but just in case… he notes down the head teacher’s number. Might have to use it. Might not. 

“So, education done then, what’s next?”

“Well, you shouldn’t only apply for one school,” Bette says, looking apologetic. “Just in case there aren’t any spots, or you get denied. Honestly, you should visit all the schools before applying, really get a sense of them, but it’s more important to get Erika into school as quickly as possible, so we really don’t have that kind of time.” 

She has a point; Erika’s already been at his for a week now, and Zolf knows he needs to get her signed up as quickly as possible. The council will help expedite the process for him so the school will have a few days to review the application instead of taking a few weeks. 

“Can we just go with… these three?” Zolf says, and Bette peers over his shoulder. 

“Those should be good,” she agrees. “The applications should be mostly the same, so you won’t need to change much between the three.”

Ridgewood is still Zolf’s number one choice, but he trusts that Bette knows the system much better than him, so he just has to hope that they accept Erika. They should - she seems like a bright kid, and according to Bette all her old teachers loved her, even after only knowing her for a few months. 

He pulls up the three applications and Bette is right - they all ask basically the same thing, so he gets started filling them out. It’s his last day of vacation time, so he really needs to get them done today. Plus, it’s not fair to keep Erika out of school for any longer than she already has been. 

It doesn’t help that the applications are long and tedious, and ask some of the most _inane_ questions.

“I mean - why the bloody _hell _do they give a shit if she goes to church?” Zolf exclaims, keeping his voice down so that Erika can’t hear him from where she’s playing in her room. “How the hell does that influence anything?” 

“Let’s just get these sorted and then we can bitch about how the schools decide to format their enrolment applications, alright?” Bette says, and hands Zolf the second application. He takes it and flips through - same questions, and Zolf sighs. 

He works quietly for a bit, Bette reading over his shoulder and double checking to make sure everything is being answered accurately. A lot of it is just him re-writing everything between applications, adding some small details here and there when Bette says that he should and replicating it on the other two. 

“Bette, not that I don’t appreciate the help,” Zolf says, finishing the signature on the final application before carefully stapling it together and tossing it into the ‘done’ pile. “But don’t you… have other things to be doing?”

“My wife doesn’t mind if I’m home late, she knows it’s for a worthy cause,” Bette says, giving him a wink. 

“Well that’s good, you’ve been over here enough as it is. Didn’t realize how much work it would be,” Zolf says, and grabs the applications, each of them at least ten pages long. 

“Zolf… you know, I understand what you’re going through?” Bette says, and Zolf gives her a curious look. “My wife and I - Cleo, she’s lovely - we adopted, as well. And this isn’t strictly adoption, I know, but… well, Sam had been through the system when we were finally able to adopt them. We had to figure out schooling and care for them as well - Cleo works strange hours since she’s a firefighter, and I spend a lot of time helping out people like yourself for my job.”

“You adopted?” Zolf asks, and Bette nods.

“Nearly four years ago, now,” she says, with a distracted smile. “Sam was… they weren’t your typical adoption. No one knew their age, even, just that they didn’t want to be adopted because they were ‘old enough’. They were maybe twelve at the time. We connected when I was working on their case - just trying to convince any local council to help, even though we didn’t know where they were from, and then, well. Cleo came in to visit me during one of our meetings, and her and Sam bonded, and the rest is history. It was a struggle, but now they’re our kid, and me and Cleo couldn’t be happier.”

“And all this… it worked out?” Zolf asks, and Bette gives him an encouraging smile.

“It did. They’re in year 11 now, actually.”

“Congratulations,” Zolf says, and he really means it. Bette nods.

“I couldn’t be prouder. You’ll see what I mean, Zolf. And honestly - don’t worry, she’ll get in,” Bette says, reassuring him. 

Zolf wants to believe her - he _really does_, honest, but Bette leaves soon after and the thoughts come spiralling in, that it won’t be enough, that he mucked up somewhere… that Erika’s going to lose out on something because of him. He does a good job hiding it, he thinks, at least from Erika. Maybe he needs to schedule another appointment with his therapist soon. Just one more thing for the mental to-do list. 

It’s understandable, then, when Zolf is stressed for the next few days. The representatives from each of the schools had said they’d get back to him by the week’s end, which is fast approaching. His hand-wringing only gets worse as the days pass with no word, and he’s had to make a few panicked calls to Bette, who has inevitably talked him down from the ledge on each occasion. 

He hears back from all the schools on the same day - of _course_ Erika gets in. Not only just to the one they’d cared about, but all the schools they’d applied to. Her prior teachers had only had glowing reviews for her, and Bette had been invaluable help during the entire process. 

She really deserves a fruit basket, or _something_. 

He picks Ridgewood, because he can drop her off in the morning before his shift begins and pick her up on the way back - he’ll have to figure out a long-term solution, since he’ll have some longer shifts to work and can’t simply leave Erika alone in the house for hours at a time. But for now, he’ll worry about getting her through those first few uncertain days at a new school. 

—

Feryn calls a day after Erika gets into the school, and Zolf groans aloud when he sees the picture flashing on the screen of his phone. He knows he definitely should have called Feryn weeks ago, knows he definitely should have told him, but it had genuinely slipped his mind and they’ve both been too busy to exchange more than a few texts a week, and just slipping ‘hey I have a daughter now’ into conversation isn’t as easy as Zolf had thought it would be. 

Erika gives him a confused look, and he just sends her a smile, tells her to continue working on her drawing, and slips into his room and shuts the door - leaving it open a crack, so Erika knows she can come inside and get him if she really needs to. It’s one of their Rules, capital-R. Closed doors mean knock, slightly open doors mean, well. Just that. Freedom to come and go. Zolf wants Erika to feel comfortable here, to feel comfortable approaching Zolf when she needs to, and this is just one of the ways Zolf is working at that. 

The ringing of the phone snaps Zolf out of his thoughts and he swears quietly, mindful of the literal five-year-old sitting outside, and answers the phone. 

“Feryn,” he greets, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Having a nice day?”

“Mhm. Something you want to tell me?” Feryn says, and his voice is _too _casual, much too similar to how his voice would sound when he knew Zolf had broken something but Zolf wouldn’t cop to it. 

“You sound like you already know,” Zolf says dryly. “Why waste the air?”

“Because I’m your favourite brother and you don’t have anyone else to tell the news to until Sasha gets back?” 

Zolf rolls his eyes. Feryn’s his _only_ brother, sure, but that doesn’t stop him from saying it. 

“Yes, Janice’s kid is staying with me. It’s official, I’ve been approved as a foster parent. No, I don’t want to make it a huge thing. Does that answer most of your questions?” Zolf asks, running his hand through his hair. 

“Not even in the slightest, but at least it’s a start,” Feryn says. “I’ve got loads more, but most of them can wait until you can’t hang up to get out of answering them.”

“How’d you even find out?” Zolf asks, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t think the Smith gossip ladder was that effective, but he’s underestimated it in the past and he’s sure he’ll do it again in the future. 

“I have my sources,” Feryn says, a common-enough refrain that makes Zolf immediately think it was probably Rainbow. However the hell _she_ found out, he has no idea. 

“Of course you do,” he replies.

“Oh, don’t sound like that, I’m excited for you! My _baby brother_ has a _daughter_ now! When can I come see her? I want to spoil my new niece,” Feryn says, and Zolf can _hear_ the grin in his voice, stretching from ear to ear. “What’s she like?”

“_Shy_, so calm down,” Zolf says. “Yes, I should have told you, I know, and I’m sorry, but she’s just… skittish. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Oh, yeah, new dad, new life, new school. She’s gotta be a bit out of it.”

Zolf shrugs, before remembering Feryn can’t see him. “Weirdly not. Apparently, school is, as she says, wicked. For everything she’s been through, she’s a resilient kid.”

“So, what - Janice just… gave her up?” Feryn asks, and Zolf can hear the judgment and anger in his voice. “Just like that? Gods. Always knew she was a shrew, but this is a new level of low.”

Zolf agrees. “And Leo and his husband are touring. Can’t really take care of a kid.”

“Makes sense…” Feryn mutters. “He and Randall keep posting pictures from different cities, that’s no life for a kid to live.”

Zolf raises an eyebrow. “You keep up with them?”

“In a sense. Leo has a very active Facebook page.”

Ah, of course. Zolf wouldn’t know - he’d avoided that entire craze like the plague, although Feryn still updates him about people every once in a while. 

“So,” Feryn says finally. “When can I come over, anyway? Doesn’t have to be tomorrow, I know, you want her to get settled. Maybe this weekend? Give her a chance to relax after a week of school and such.”

Zolf flips through his mental calendar and nods. “Yeah. Saturday evening? Come over for dinner.”

“You cooking?” Feryn asks.

“No, Erika is - of course me, gods,” Zolf says, and Feryn laughs. 

“Okay, okay. Yeah. See you Saturday, then?” 

“Saturday,” Zolf says. “Love you, Feryn.”

“You too, Zolf,” Feryn says, and hangs up. 

—

“Erika,” Zolf says quietly, shaking her awake. He’s barely awake himself - it’s earlier than he normally gets up for his shifts, and even remembering his residency days of regularly pulling all-nighters, he hasn’t felt this tired in the morning in a while. “It’s your first day of school, c’mon, up and at ‘em.”

Erika doesn’t seem to be faring much better, whinging sleepily as she pushes his hand away and snuggles deeper into the covers. Half of Zolf’s brain thinks she has the right idea, thinking longingly of his own warm bed back in his room, but it’s his job to get Erika to school on time. He pulls the covers off and Erika groans unhappily again, curling up on herself.

“Zolf, _no,”_ she sighs, and Zolf feels bad until he glances at the clock on the bedside table. 

“Sorry, love, you need to get up or we’ll be late - it’s your first day.”

_That_ gets her up; Erika sits up with a gasp, eyes wide as she looks over at Zolf. “I have school!”

“Ah, yes, now you need to get ready,” Zolf says, and Erika leaps off of the bed. “I laid your clothes out, come out to the kitchen when you’ve changed and we’ll have some breakfast.”

He makes himself a cup of coffee and gulps it down, willing the caffeine to wake him up, and then Erika bounds into the room and sits patiently on a chair, schoolbag resting off the back as she stares expectantly at Zolf. He pours some cereal in a bowl and hands it over to her, and she slurps it up.

“Slow down a bit, there,” he chides, and Erika swallows the mouthful she has.

“Sorry,” she says, and eats a mite slower. 

He finishes his cup at about the same time Erika finishes her cereal, and then he’s following her out to the car as she dashed ahead, calling for Zolf to hurry up.

“Hop in,” he says, opening the car door for her, and Erika scrambles into the back, settling her schoolbag on her lap and clutching at it excitedly.

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!” 

Zolf laughs and shuts the door, heading around to the other side of the car and getting in himself.

“Seat belt,” he reminds, and Erika whines, but listens to him, strapping herself into the car seat. Zolf waits until hearing the click of the seat belt before pulling out of the garage and heading down the street toward Erika’s school. He checks the clock on the dash; they’re actually making better time than he thought they would, with how sluggish they both were this morning. 

Erika is chattering on in the back, talking about how excited she is, and how many new friends she’s going to make, and Zolf does his best to make the appropriate sounds in response, decidedly _not_ thinking about the possibility of the other kids being awful. 

The drive is nice and short, and Erika spends the entire trip talking about how excited she is, and how she’s going to make a thousand friends and have a lovely time, and Zolf’s happy to hear all of it. They park right outside the courtyard and Erika hops out of the car. Zolf takes his time, giving the school a once-over. It looks pristine, new; the stone is a lovely shade of white and looks like it’s been kept up over the years. The courtyard is a rolling expanse covered with children, and it takes Zolf a moment to realize that Erika is on her way to becoming one of those children. 

“Bye, Zolf! Love you!” Erika calls over her shoulder, running off to join the other kids playing in the field, dropping her bag near the fence. 

“Be careful!” he yells after her, cupping his hands around his mouth, but she’s either out of earshot or doesn’t care, scrambling over to them and introducing herself excitedly as she joins the game.

He watches for a bit, checking his watch to make sure he won’t be late for work, and waiting around just keeping an eye on the other kids. He’s well-versed in how kids can turn cruel on a dime, and doesn’t want Erika to have to deal with it. 

“Good morning, Mr. Smith,” a young, pretty teacher says, interrupting his thoughts. Her hair is in loose curls, about shoulder-length, and her smile is warm and friendly. “I’m Amélie Rose, I’ll be your daughter’s year 1 teacher.”

“Oh, she’s not actually my - well, she’s legally my daughter, yes, but she’s my cousin’s kid and I’m just her guardian. Er - sorry, it’s all a bit confusing. Sorry,” Zolf stammers out, running a hand through his hair. 

“Don’t worry,” she laughs. “It’s all been explained to me. I’ll make sure Erika is settling in fine, and that the other kids are treating her well. Here -“ she hands him a business card - “my contact information. If you’re ever worried about her, or want to discuss anything related to her education, you can reach out to me.”

Zolf takes the card and tucks it into his wallet. “Thanks, ah - this is very nice of you.”

The smile she gives him is understanding and sympathetic. “Of course. It’s Erika’s first time at a new school and it’s halfway through the year. I want to make sure she’s as comfortable and happy as possible.”

Zolf nods. “I, ah - really appreciate it. Thanks. And you can - can call me Zolf.” 

“Of course,” she says, and reaches out for a handshake that Zolf returns. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” he says, and then a bell rings across the courtyard. All of the kids start packing up immediately and dashing for the front doors, and Zolf spots Erika being pulled along by a short black girl with pigtails as they both laugh.

Amélie gives him an apologetic look and motions toward the school. “Sorry, I have to go. But really, if Erika isn’t settling in well, let me know.”

Zolf nods and thanks her again, and Amélie heads off, leaving Zolf to glance at his watch, notice the time, and swear as he hurries back to the car. 

“She’ll be _fine_,” Zolf mutters to himself once he’s alone in the car, making the short trek over to the hospital. “She’s a good kid, the teachers seem nice, Amélie is looking out for her, and Bette _told _you it’d be fine. It’s _fine.”_

The mantra doesn’t help, and by halfway through his own work day he’s still not been able to push it out of his mind and is outright worrying about it. Julien comments on it, again and again, pushing on Zolf’s already-frayed nerves, and it takes a frankly ridiculous amount of effort on Zolf’s part to not explode on the man. 

The drive back to the school is tense; the radio is turned low, set to some pop station with music that Zolf doesn’t even recognize, and even though it’s short it’s enough for him to run through all the worst scenarios in his mind. 

Thankfully none of them come to pass, since Erika comes running out of the school with a wide smile on her face, running up to Zolf as he stands outside the car, throwing her arms around his waist.

Of _course_ it’s fine. 

Erika _loves_ the school. She already has a best friend named Monica, and she won’t stop talking about how nice and friendly her schoolmates are, and how sweet Ms. Amélie is, and how boring the food is, and how much she loves the class, and it settles a solid 90 percent of the stress that has been filling up his chest. 

She spends the entire drive home talking about her day and how much fun she had, and she brightens up as Zolf shares in the excitement.

Sometimes Zolf forgets how… easy it can be, for kids. Not having to worry about all the other bullshit like teens or adults, just being able to point at someone and decide to become friends.

It’s a relief, being able to see how comfortable she is. He’d been worried (clearly), but her first day went better than expected 

He should probably call Bette, tell her she was right.

_Again_. 

—

Feryn does get the chance to come over that weekend; Erika’s still been having a great time in school, fitting in well with the other kids, so Zolf decides it might as well be time for Erika to meet her uncle. Feryn’s probably more excited than she is, honestly. 

He shows up a little bit early, a first for him, and Zolf heads over to get the door and opens it to Feryn’s smiling face.

His brother pulls him into a tight hug that Zolf happily returns, clapping Feryn on the back. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other - Feryn’s recently got back from a holiday abroad and Zolf’s been busy with Erika, so they haven’t been able to put some time aside for a get together. 

“Good to see you, _dad_,” Feryn teases, and Zolf pulls a face. 

“Gods, no. She calls me Zolf, anyway,” Zolf explains, and Feryn shrugs. “But it is good to see you, Feryn.”

“How’s life treating you?” Feryn asks.

“Well, she ain’t a new born, so…” he trails off. “It’s stressful, I’ll say that much. But she’s a good kid. Easy to handle, pretty calm. Most of the time. Haven’t had any out-of-control meltdowns as of yet.”

“Mm, lucky you,” Feryn says. “So, where is she?”

“Erika, come say hello,” Zolf calls down the hallway, waiting for her answering footsteps on the floor as she pokes her head out into the hallway. 

“Hi,” Feryn says, crouching down as Erika comes over and hides behind Zolf’s legs, peeking out round his hip as Feryn gives her a calm smile. “My name is Feryn.” 

“Hi,” Erika says, shy, and ducks back behind Zolf’s leg. He chuckles and nudges her out, crouching down next to her and tilting his head toward Feryn.

“This is my brother, sweetheart. You can call him Uncle Feryn.”

“You’re Zolf’s brother?” Erika asks, looking between them. 

“Big brother,” Feryn says, ruffling Zolf’s hair while Zolf bats his hands away and glares up at him. 

“Oh, I almost forgot - I brought a gift for a girl named Erika, do you know her?” Feryn asks to the room at large, glancing around just over Erika’s head.

“That’s me!” Erika gasps, and Zolf laughs under his breath as Feryn sends him a wink. “I’m Erika!”

“I think I - I think I might hear something, but I can’t see anyone,” Feryn continues, looking around the room at eye level. He turns completely around and Erika runs to stand in front of him, waving her hands and jumping.

“It’s me! I’m here!” she calls, and Feryn finally glances down, faux expression of surprise on his face.

“_You’re_ Erika? That can’t be,” he says.

“I am! It’s on all of my notebooks, and my schoolbags, and my rain jacket, and my boots, and -“

“Well, you must be Erika, then,” Feryn says, and rummages around in his rucksack. “And that must mean this is for you.”

He produces a largeish box, wrapped pretty nicely for Feryn’s standards, and hands it over to Erika, who takes it with eyes wide open. Zolf takes a point of pride when she looks at him for permission before just tearing into the box. He nods, and she pulls off the paper, gasping in excitement as she sees a monster doll that’s half the size of herself. 

“Oh! This is my favourite!” she exclaims, and frantically pushes the box over at Zolf. “Can you open it, please?”

“What do we say?” Zolf reminds her, gently bumping her shoulder with his hip before heading toward the kitchen to grab some scissors. 

“Thank you!” Erika says, and Feryn reaches down to ruffle her hair. 

“No problem, kid,” he says, and the both of them follow Zolf, Erika clutching the box close to herself. She hands it to Zolf when he asks and he makes short work of the tape, handing her the doll once he’s gotten the box open.

She hugs it closely and then turns, giving Feryn a hug as well. He hugs back, and Zolf shoots him a thumbs up from behind Erika. 

They have a good time - Feryn’s always been good with kids, Zolf knows that, and Erika’s taken a proper shine to him. They all eat supper together - Zolf had spent most of the day cooking a roast while Erika played in her room, and it had come out perfectly. Erika chatters away for most of it, Feryn asking questions about her school and her friends that she’s all too happy to answer, and Zolf is able to relax a bit. 

After dinner they play a few board games before retiring to the couch, where Erika absolutely _has_ to display the dance that her year is working on for her new favourite uncle. Zolf and Feryn catch up slightly, and Feryn tells funny stories that make Erika laugh. 

It’s not long before the clock on the wall chimes and Zolf glances over, seeing it’s gone nine, and rises from his seat on the couch. “Time for bed, Erika,” he says. “Do you want to say goodnight to your uncle?”

Erika looks over at Feryn and nods, slowly, and Feryn opens his arms, letting her make the final decision; she goes over and wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Bye, Uncle Feryn!” she says, and draws back, clutching the monster doll close to her chest. Zolf looks over at her and makes a little ‘go on,’ motion with his head, and she holds out the toy. “Thank you for the gift.”

“Anytime, kid. Remember, I’m the cool one,” Feryn says, giving her a wink. “‘Kay?”

She giggles. “‘Kay!” 

Zolf rolls his eyes at Feryn’s shit-eating grin and reaches out for Erika, steering her toward the hallway. “Stop turning her against me, you just met her.” 

“No promises!” Feryn calls after them, _definitely _smirking, and Zolf internally groans. Erika yawns as he walks her down the hallway. 

“You can skip your bath tonight as long as you promise not to cause a fuss tomorrow morning and take a bath,” Zolf says, and holds out his pinkie finger. “Promise?”

“Promise!” Erika says, and links their pinkie fingers together briefly. 

“Good - now go on, get ready for bed. No story tonight, but we can do two stories tomorrow.” 

Erika looks like she’s going to argue for a minute, but then she’s off, shutting the door as she gets changed. Zolf waits outside until she opens the door again, and Erika leaps up into her bed, scrambling under the covers. 

“Are you sure no story tonight?” she asks, and Zolf nods. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Two tomorrow.”

“Can uncle Feryn do the voices next time he comes over?” she asks, rolling over and looking up at Zolf. 

“Nah, he’s rubbish at ‘em,” he says quietly. “I’m much better.”

“I like uncle Feryn. He’s cool,” she says, sleepy. 

Zolf chuckles. “Don’t listen to him,” he says, and leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. “_I’m_ the cool one.”

“Okay,” Erika says, with a big yawn. She snuggles under the covers, eyes slipping shut. “Night night. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he whispers back, and pulls the covers up to her chin, before stepping back and flipping the light off. “See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.”

Erika makes a tired sound from the bed and Zolf smiles, shutting the door quietly. He sighs as soon as the door is shut and heads back down the hallway, stepping into the kitchen - where, of course, Feryn is sitting at the table with an open bottle of whiskey on the table and two glasses full of ice and booze.

“Drink?” Feryn asks, holding one glass out to him, and Zolf takes it gratefully.

“_God_, yes.”

—

“I dunno why Janice trusted me with this,” Zolf says, three drinks later, leaning back in the chair and swirling the whiskey around in his glass. “You, I could understand. You’ve basically got your life together, you’ve got a job, a real house… what the hell am I? Some washed-up seaman who didn’t finish his tour and then became a nurse? I still need _therapy, _gods, who decided to put me in charge of someone else’s entire _life?” _

“Janice, apparently,” Feryn says, and Zolf groans, leaning back in his chair and covering his eyes with his hands. He still hasn’t even _heard _from Janice about this entire thing, which feels off, since he’s sure she knows he took Erika in, and has probably gotten an earful of Rainbow’s, well. _Colourful_ opinion about her conduct. That’s not what Zolf’s worried about most, though. He’s perfectly fine with Janice fucking off for the foreseeable future, ta very _fucking_ much. 

“_Gods_, why me? Why not anyone else? We haven’t even spoken for years, why was I the first option?” 

Feryn shrugs, and takes another swig of the whiskey. “Maybe she had faith in you. Maybe she wanted to have a laugh. Who knows how Janice’s mind works.”

“Feryn… what if I muck it up?” Zolf whispers, glancing up at Feryn. It’s the fear he’s tried hardest not to acknowledge, as though thinking about it will bring it to light. As though saying it out loud will make it come true. And he is terrified of it - scared that Erika will get all messed up and there will be no one to blame but himself.

“You might,” Feryn says, dodging as Zolf goes to shove at him. 

“Real helpful, cheers, this is why I come to you for advice.” 

“Oh, pack it in, you come to me because I give better advice than Sasha would and you don’t have a lot of options. And that’s not what I _meant, _Zolf.” Feryn leans forward and taps on the table, turning Zolf’s attention to him. “No one is expecting you to be perfect.”

Zolf chews on the inside of his cheek. “_I _am.”

“Well, stop that,” Feryn says, and cuffs him gently on the back of the head. “No one can be perfect all the time. Hell, most people aren’t perfect half the time, and you’re already better than most.”

“What if I have a panic attack in front of her? What if I just - just shut down, or what if something bad happens while we’re out and I drop, what if -“

“Zolf,” Feryn says, and it’s as calm as ever, piercing through the waves trying to take over his mind the way only Feryn has ever seemed to be able to accomplish. “I need you to look at me. Can you do that?” 

Zolf does, but it takes more effort than it should. His eyes lock on his brother’s and Feryn reaches out to clasp Zolf’s arm. “Breathe, alright, kid? Deep breaths. Count to five.”

He listens. Breathes. And slowly but surely, with Feryn’s low voice guiding him along, he settles back into himself.

“M’not a kid anymore, Feryn,” he finally says, once the panic has receded a bit and he isn’t thinking about having a mental breakdown right there at the table (although it wouldn’t be the first time).

“Yeah, I know,” Feryn says, and reaches over to wrap Zolf up in a hug that’s a little too tight. Zolf isn’t going to complain. “Still my kid brother. Always will be.”

“Whatever,” Zolf says, trying and failing to hide the fondness in his voice. Of all the older brothers to be saddled with, he could have done much worse than Feryn. 

“I’m still worried about her, though,” Zolf says, and the whiskey burns less on the way down now that nearly all the ice has melted into it. “Worried she won’t get… I dunno. The best opportunities. Or something.”

“Zolf, I know you. And I know you won’t give her anything other than the best. And you know that _too_, mate. Like you’d do anything less.” 

“But -“

“No, shut up. Tell me this. Do you regret doing it? Regret taking her in?”

Zolf shakes his head. “No. Never.”

“Then _listen_ to me. You might fuck up. You might make mistakes. That’s part of being _human_, mate. And I know you. You didn’t do this out of some… sense of obligation, you did it cause it’s the right thing, and you ain’t gonna fuck the kid up, alright?” 

“But -“

“I’m not done,” Feryn says, swatting him on the arm. 

“God, what is it with you and _hitting _me -“

“You’re being a tit. It’s deserved. Anyway - in what world do you think you’re alone in this?” Feryn asks, and Zolf glances up from where he’d been watching the whiskey swirl around in the glass. “You’ve got me. You’ve got Sasha. This social worker you’re telling me about - Betty?”

“Bette.”

Feryn points at him. “Bette. You’ve got her, too. This isn’t all on _you._ We’re here for you, Zolf. You can lean on us.”

He’s right, is the thing. Feryn usually is, when it comes to Zolf spiralling down into cycles of self-hatred and stress. He doesn’t have to do this alone - never did, really.

“Thanks, Feryn,” Zolf says, voice thick. 

“Course,” Feryn says back, wrapping an arm around Zolf’s back and squeezing his shoulder. “Now shut up, drink your whiskey, and tell me how I can help.”

—

“Zolf?” Erika asks, and her eyes are wide with fear when she bursts into his room. Zolf is up in a minute, crouching down in front of her as she trembles, and he waits for her to not recoil before he rests both his hands on her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he says, aiming for worried but not _panicked_, and she takes in a shuddering breath as she points over her shoulder.

“There’s a lady in the kitchen,” she whispers, and glances back. “I wanted a snack, you _said_ I could, but I seed someone _there_.”

A lady - “Erika, what did she look like?”

Erika scrunches up her forehead and chews on her lip. “Tall. Black hair.”

Gods damn it. _Sasha_. 

“That’s not a stranger, Erika, I promise. She’s a friend.” A friend who Zolf is going to need to have yet _another_ word with about breaking into his flat instead of knocking on the door like a normal person. _Honestly._

Erika trails behind him, clutching tightly to the back of his jumper as he steps into the kitchen, spotting Sasha just as she turns around and shuts the door to the pantry, open crisp bag in hand as she pops a few into her mouth. She catches Zolf right away and hops up onto the counter.

“Alright, Zolf?” she asks, licking her fingers and looking much less contrite than Zolf thinks she ought to. 

“Sasha, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Zolf says, forcing his voice to be as calm and happy as possible while his eyes shoot daggers at her. Sasha seems to get the message, but doesn’t really seem to care, which is par for the course when it comes to her.

“Wanted to come say hi.”

“And eat my food,” Zolf says dryly, raising an eyebrow at her. She doesn’t disagree. “I thought you were working for another week?” 

“Got back early,” she says. Zolf wishes he were surprised, but, well. He stopped being shocked by Sasha’s behavioural quirks a long time ago. Maybe after the tenth time he’d gotten home from a long shift to see her lounging on his couch and flipping through Netflix. 

He feels Erika peek out from around his legs, and Sasha’s gaze flickers over to her.

“Who’s this?” Sasha asks, pointing over at Erika. “Zolf, you’ve got a mini-me.”

“Sasha, we don’t even look anything alike. Or, well, _barely.”_

“Still a mini-you,” Sasha mumbles, slipping another crisp into her mouth. “She’s mini, she’s in your house, mini-you.”

“I’m not mini!” Erika finally pipes up, indignant, as Sasha peers over at her from under her bangs. “I’m a big girl!” 

Zolf steps in smoothly, cutting off Sasha’s retort, whatever it was going to be, and gestures for Erika to step forward. “Erika, this is Sasha, she’s… a friend. She just likes surprising me, yeah?” Zolf says. “Nothing to be worried about.” He smiles at her, encouragingly, but Erika still looks more than a little suspicious. Honestly, that’s to be expected, when you find a random person rooting through your cabinets on a Saturday. 

“All right, Erika?” Sasha says, looking a little out of her element - an emotion Zolf hasn’t seen often on her face.

Erika doesn’t say anything back, and Zolf nudges her on the shoulder. “Remember your manners,” he whispers.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says, and Sasha gives her a lopsided grin. 

“Sorry for scaring you. Won’t happen again, promise. Next time, you can scare me if you want.”

Erika smiles at that, finally, seemingly excited by the prospect, and Zolf has a moment where he envisions both Erika and Sasha stalking around his flat, ready to jump out to scare him, and shudders. He banished the thought from his head and heads over to the pantry, pulling open the door.

“You wanted a snack, right? Here you go,” Zolf says, handing Erika a bag of crisps, which she takes happily, scampering off to the living room without so much as a backwards glance, but Zolf still waits until he hears her jump onto the couch and flick the telly on before he turns back to Sasha, frown on his face.

“Sasha, you can’t just break in whenever you want to,” Zolf says, disapprovingly. “And, look, I know I’ve said this before, and I was only half serious because I don’t mind you being here, but not if it’s going to scare Erika.”

“You don’t mind me being here?” Sasha asked, and Zolf rolls his eyes. 

“That’s really not the focus - and how’d you even get in this time, anyway? I know all the windows were locked and the door was deadbolted,” Zolf asks. 

Sasha just shakes her head. “Magicians never reveal their secrets, boss.”

Zolf rolls his eyes. “Not your boss. And please, just… stop. At least until Erika’s older and doesn’t think we’re being robbed when you show up out of nowhere.”

“Are you giving me permission?”

“If it stops you from breaking in now, sure,” Zolf counters, and Sasha ‘hmm’s quietly. “Actually, since when did my _permission _matter to you, you’d break in anyway.”

“Since you’d have to stop _whinging _about it all the time -“

“I don’t _whinge -“ _

“You’re doing it right _now,_ mate -“

Zolf lets out a deep sigh and cuts Sasha off, rubbing at his temples. “Listen. No, it’s not permission. But just… make sure you’re not scaring the kid? Please?”

For a moment it almost seems as though Sasha isn’t going to agree, and then Zolf would have to have a _very _uncomfortable conversation, but in the end Sasha just shrugs. “Fine. No breaking in and letting the kid see.”

“That’s _really_ not what I - you know what, fine, whatever, as long as it doesn’t scare her.” It’s probably the best Zolf is going to get out of the agreement, and it’ll give Sasha a challenge. 

“Speaking of - I was gone for a _month_, Zolf, how the hell’d you get saddled with a kid anyway_?”_ Sasha asks, curiosity spreading across her face. 

“My cousin, er -“ he lowers his voice and leans in a bit closer, “didn’t want the kid anymore. Shunted her over to me. Kinship caring, apparently.”

“_Kinship_ caring?” she asks, and Zolf shrugs.

“Basically, for all intents and purposes, she’s my daughter now. In the eyes of Somerset Council, at least.”

“How long’ve you had her?” Sasha asks.

“Three weeks, give or take a couple of days. It’s been… less of a hassle than it could have been, I suppose. Her school is going well, she seems to have friends. Met Feryn the other week, he already loves her to death.”

“How old is she?” Sasha asks. “‘M bad with guessing ages. My friend, Jimmy, yeah, he was missing a finger, right, we grew up together, thought he was younger than me the whole time, because he was small, right? Bad at - well, everything, really, s’why he was missing a finger -“

“Sasha, _you’re_ missing a finger,” Zolf interrupts, pointing down at the stump on her hand; she waves it away. 

“First off, that was intentional,” she says, and ignores Zolf’s surprised “_What_?!” as she keeps talking. “And second, I’m good at my job, that’s why I keep getting into your place when you’re not here. Anyway, with Jimmy, I thought he was young, yeah, only turns out, he leaves for uni, and I’m still in year six, he was older than me the entire time. So, I’m bad at guessing ages, yeah?” 

“You - Sasha, _what?” _Zolf says, having lost the plot a while ago. 

“Keep up, Zolf, come on, how old is she, and can I give her a knife? I’ve got a pretty green one that isn’t too sharp, and it’s proper fancy, too, maybe -“

Zolf grabs Sasha by the arm and tugs her over to the side of the kitchen, glancing down the hallway to make sure Erika isn’t listening in. “Gods, Sasha, she’s _five_, you can’t give her a knife!” 

“_I _had a knife when I was five,” Sasha pouts, crossing her arms and giving Zolf a challenging look. 

“No, Sasha. Just - wait until she’s fifteen, or something, _please,”_ Zolf asks, already feeling the beginning of a stress migraine building in his head. He really can’t handle all of this _and_ Erika having a knife, and Sasha likes him too much to kill him by way of stress ulcer, so. 

Still, Sasha considers it for a moment, before nodding. “Alright. Got that birthday present sorted, though.”

Zolf sighs, but takes the temporary win while he still can. 

“Anyway - how come you didn’t tell me, boss?” Sasha asked, and Zolf just frowns slightly, not even willing to argue about the moniker at this point. 

“Sasha, you were supposed to be at work for another week, I wasn’t going to text you and tell you I got a kid until you were back.” 

Sasha nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. Well, I got the job done early and made it back, figured I’d pay you a surprise visit on the way.”

“Sasha… what _is_ your job?” Zolf asks, and the small secretive smirk that forms on Sasha’s face doesn’t bode well. 

“Can’t tell ya, boss. Would have to kill you.”

The scariest part is that Zolf isn’t completely sure she’s kidding. 

—

It’s a beautiful Saturday - the sun is shining, the buds are slowly growing back on the trees, and there’s a lovely spring breeze filtering in through the open window. Zolf isn’t enjoying the weather, though - he’s inside in his room, pacing. He’s been here for about an hour now, and they should be finishing up; the rut that he’s worn into the carpet probably won’t fade anytime soon, though.

Today’s Bette’s first initial interview with Erika; the first formal one, at least. She’s been round theirs a few times already, helping Erika get settled, but this is the first time she’s going to have to officially report back to the council on how Erika is faring.

It’ll be fine. It’ll _absolutely_ be fine, Bette knows how Zolf treats Erika, and she knows the situation. She even gave Zolf an encouraging smile right before asking him to give them some space, and it’ll all… be fine. 

Zolf’s still pacing, though. Helps relieve the stress.

_Gods, _what if Erika tells her about Sasha… obviously, Sasha’s harmless - or, well, _demonstrably not_, but harmless to them, and without context it might not seem like the best situation. 

She seems to be having a good time in school, at least, and Zolf makes sure to keep the flat stacked with all her favourite snacks, and she took to Feryn like a moth to flame, and she’s been more chatty recently as well. 

He hears the door to Erika’s room crack open and freezes in place, glancing out to the hallway. Erika and Bette are laughing as they step out of her room, and Zolf peeks his head out to see them. Laughing is a good sign, at least. 

“All done,” Bette says, and Erika giggles again. “I just need -“

The doorbell rings and cuts Bette off, and Erika’s over there like a light, pulling the door open and chatting excitedly with someone just out of Zolf’s sight. Erika peers back around the door, and gives Zolf her best impression at puppy-dog eyes.

“Zolf, can I go play with Mandy?” she beseeches, and Zolf raises an eyebrow. “Pleeeeeeeeease?” 

He shares a look with Bette, who shrugs. “I don’t need her for anything else.”

“Fine, go ahead, Erika,” he says, and Erika cheers, grabbing her shoes from the cubby and slipping them onto her feet. “As long as you say thanks to Bette and a proper goodbye.”

“Oh!” Erika exclaims, only one shoe on as she runs back to Bette and gives her a quick hug. “Bye, Ms. Betty!”

“Bette,” Zolf corrects, but Bette just laughs and waves it off. 

“No worries - it’s a nickname a few people call me. I don’t mind, honest,” she says, hugging Erika back. “Now, have fun, love.”

Erika grins toothily up at her and dashes off. She slams the door shut before Zolf can tell her to be back before it’s dark; it’ll probably be fine, he knows Mandy and her parents, they live a little way down the road, so worse comes to worse he won’t have to search the entire neighbourhood to find her. And he’s glad she’s having fun with more kids her age who don’t go to the same school as she does.

“Tea?” he asks, turning back to Bette, who nods vigorously.

“Would love some, thanks,” she says, and Zolf nods. They head toward the kitchen and Bette scribbles down some notes while Zolf brews a pot, waiting for the kettle to whistle before pouring two cups - plain for Bette, as always - and heading over to the table.

“How’d it go?” he asks, trying to hide the nerves in his voice, and Bette smiles over at him. 

“Zolf,” Bette says, resting a hand on his shoulder, “You can relax. You’re doing a wonderful job with Erika. She’s a really bright kid, and you’re giving her a good life.”

“You been talking to my brother?” Zolf asks, a little wryly, and Bette pulls back, brow scrunching up in confusion. “Never mind, nothing, just - he had a lot of the same things to say as you.”

“Well then, he must be pretty smart,” she says, smiling. “Believe me. You’re doing a great job.”

Zolf swallows around the lump in his throat, a pressure building up behind his eyes that he wills down. “Thanks - ah, thanks, Bette.”

“Anytime. Now - I have to go write up the report and file it with the council. We’ll continue having meetings as needed, and if you ever need help with anything, you have my number.”

Zolf bids her goodbye and Bette heads out with a wave. 

He spends most of the rest of the day distracting himself from the thought of the report - he’s got a couple of chores he needs to get done anyway, and worrying about the damn thing won’t help anyone. Bette told him it’s fine, and he does believe her, he just needs to convince his brain to stop sounding alarm sirens.

In a turn of luck, he ends up not having to call Erika to come back home; she shows up at half five in the middle of Zolf making dinner, arms linked with Mandy’s, and begs Zolf to let her sleepover for the night. Zolf waffles back and forth but eventually capitulates - it is a Saturday, after all, and he’s not busy tomorrow. He tells Mandy to call her parents and ask, and she scrambles over to the phone with Erika in tow, giggling together while Zolf smiles and adds more pasta to the pot. Mandy’s dads have let her stay over before, and even if they say no, they can at least have her stay for supper. 

Erika and Mandy come back into the kitchen cheering, and Zolf assumes Mandy’s staying over. He’ll have to grab the camp bed out from the closet again, and set it up in Erika’s room for Mandy to use. Or they can kip out in the family room if they’d like - he can probably help them build a fort to sleep under. 

Dinner is a loud affair, but not one Zolf minds. Having more people in the flat brighten it up - something that, before Erika, Zolf wouldn’t have expected enjoying. He’s always been a bit of an introvert, as it were, but watching how excited Erika becomes when one of her friends is over is worth the sacrifice his eardrums make. 

Mandy is a sweet girl; she thanks him for the meal, as always, and even brings her plate over to the counter. Her and Erika ask to be excused from dinner, a request Zolf grants, and they tear off to Erika’s room to play with some of her dolls and other toys, leaving Zolf in the relative quiet.

He does the washing up after dinner and settles down in the family room to watch some of the evening news, and it’s not long before Erika and Mandy emerge again, having decided to sleep out in the family room. Zolf grabs as many pillows as he can while Erika and Mandy drag the blankets in, and then they get to work. Well - Zolf gets to work, with Erika and Mandy providing assistance and commentary as he gets everything set up. In the end, he’s proud of it, and Erika and Mandy scramble underneath it excitedly. 

“Thanks, Mr. Smith!” Mandy says, laying out her sleeping bag carefully, while Erika does the same at her side.

“Yeah, thanks Zolf!” she adds. “Can we have ice cream?”

He considers for a moment - they’ve got a few cartons in the freezer, probably each about half full. “Sure, why not. Mandy, any particular flavour you want?” 

“Chocolate, please!” she says, and Erika nods in agreement.

Zolf heads over to the kitchen and pulls two cartons out - plain chocolate for Mandy, and chocolate chip cookie dough for himself and Erika. He brings all the bowls and toppings out on a tray, handing the whipped cream over to Erika so she can load up her own bowl with the stuff before adding chocolate sauce; it’s the only way she’ll eat it. 

Mandy is a bit more conservative, opting for simply sprinkles, and Zolf just adds some fudge himself. He turns on the telly to some random programme, but Erika ends up with the remote somehow and changes it to some kids station as she and Mandy lay under the fort, chins on their hands as they shovel ice cream into their mouths.

The clock strikes ten and Erika jumps up and begins pushing him out of the room. Zolf laughs, dragging his heels a bit as she strains and huffs. 

“_Zolf! _It’s bedtime for you! Go!” she yells, and Zolf tries not to be slightly offended. 

“Erika, it’s hardly even late -“ he tries, but Erika just keeps pushing, hands on the small of his back. 

“We have to talk about things! They’re secret!” 

“And you can't tell me? Ouch,” Zolf says, giving her a wounded look as he stalls again. 

“No, they’re _secret_,” Erika says by way of explanation, and Zolf knows a losing battle when he sees one and decides to at least let her have this victory.

“Alright, then. Sweet dreams, you two. I love you, Erika,” Zolf calls out pointedly, and Erika finally stops pushing him as he leans down to give her a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead. He steps outside the door and heads to his own room; he’s not a fool - there’s no way the two of them go to bed at any point before midnight, but he can let them have their fun. It’s a Saturday, after all. 

Still, it’s dead early for him to go to bed as well; he can probably sneak to the kitchen for a nightcap before retreating to his room - there’s a new Campbell novel he’s been waiting to start, a sequel that promises to be even better than the first, but Zolf hasn’t had much free time to read recently. He shuts the door to his room and grabs the book off of his dresser before heading to the chair in the corner of his room, intent on curling up with the novel as it takes him along on a romantic journey along with Jennifer and her new wife, Margaret.

He does end up sneaking around to the kitchen once it’s gone half midnight and the book has been dragging for a few chapters - kids aren’t the only ones who get late-night snacks, _thanks_ \- and peers into the family room on his way back to his room. 

Erika and Mandy are both fast asleep under the fort, and Erika is snoring softly. He leans in the doorway for a moment and watches; they both look so peaceful, sleeping there, and Zolf feels a surge of affection in his chest. The lights are still on in the room, and he creeps around the fort carefully to get to the switch, shutting the lights off and plunging the room into darkness. He’s extra careful on the way back, detouring through the kitchen and flipping off those lights as well before making it back to his room with a bag of crisps. 

The girls must have been exhausted to fall asleep this early, especially after all the sugar and energy they’d had earlier. Zolf settles into bed himself, dog-earing the page (he can _hear_ Feryn yelling at him in his head) for some future reading. It is late, after all; if he goes to sleep now, he can get up a little earlier, whip up some chocolate chip pancakes for the girls in the morning and spend the day getting the house back in order from the fort they’d built. 

—

Zolf didn’t realize how lucky he was, how good of a kid Erika was, until she suddenly… isn’t. And it’s not her fault, not really - shopping’s taken longer than Zolf had expected it to, and Erika’s long overdue for a nap, but they’re still stuck in a line that stretches out beyond the registers and no hope of getting home soon. 

He pushes it off as much as he can, trying to make games out of the waiting. It works for a while - Erika is all too happy to show Zolf she can count to twenty, and pick out all the red handbags in the line - but soon she starts winding down and not answering, regardless of what Zolf tries to do to distract her.

He sees the meltdown coming, is the thing. He sees it in the quivering of Erika’s lip, in her slowly-turning-red face, and he _knows_ what’s coming. 

“I want to go home,” Erika says, quietly, and Zolf can see tears starting to build up in her eyes as she sniffs, rubbing at her nose with her sleeve. Zolf pulls it away from her nose and hands her a tissue from his pocket instead.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Zolf says, and the line continues to move forward at a snail’s pace. “We’re almost able to go home, okay?” 

“I want to go home _now_,” she whines, and the tears start falling as she hiccoughs. Zolf runs a hand through her hair and tries to keep his voice calm when he responds.

“Okay. We have to get through this line first. Can you do that?” Zolf asks, cupping her cheek in his hand as he nods encouragingly. Erika sniffles again and shakes her head.

“Can we go home?” she asks, and Zolf bites his lip. 

“Soon, I promise,” Zolf says, and _wills_ the line to move faster. It doesn’t, because why would the universe work out for him, and that’s when Erika really hits the wall.

“No! I want to go home!” Erika wails, and Zolf swears internally as what feels like everyone’s eyes turn immediately on him. She starts kicking in her seat and screaming like a bloody maniac, and the tears are streaming down her face as she yells, and the only thing he can do is try to calm her down. 

Nothing’s _working_, is the thing. She’s shaking in her seat, kicking the metal, and Zolf is desperately trying not to panic, because that won’t help the situation at _all. _

“I know, I know, this is awful and terrible, I _know,” _he tries to soothe, rubbing his hands up and down her arms to try and get her to relax. “I’m the worst, you can scream at me forever when we’re home, I know you’re tired, but can you calm down for me?” 

Erika just keeps wailing, and now people are _really _starting to stare. Gods, Zolf _isn’t cut out for this._ He’s got a kid screaming her head off, and he’s always been the person who frowned at other parents who brought a screaming kid somewhere, but _gods, _sometimes there’s just nothing you can do, and he keeps sending apologetic smiles at the adults who give him a Look. 

Nothing he’s saying is helping, and Erika isn’t crying any harder than before but she still isn’t stopping. And he has to stay calm, because if he doesn’t, everything’s just going to get worse. 

“Need some help, love?” he hears, and glances over to see two kindly-looking old biddies standing with a shopping basket shared between them. 

“_Please_,” Zolf breathes out, and it might be a sign of how desperate he is that he’s accepting help from two random strangers, but he doesn’t really care, not now. If they can get Erika to stop crying, he’ll gladly accept any help they can give. 

“Here,” one of them says, and places their own basket on the floor. “Sandra, go check us out, I’ll help this one with the baby.”

“She’s, er, she’s five,” Zolf stammers out, hands still frantically fluttering through Erika’s hair in an attempt to soothe her that decidedly isn’t working. 

“Still nearly a baby, then,” she says, and hefts her up and out of her seat in the front of their cart. Erika goes willingly, still crying her little head off. “Out you go. You -“ she holds Erika out to Zolf and he takes her immediately, “rock her.”

Erika’s hands wrap around Zolf’s neck while she cries and he rubs her back, patting softly and whispering, “it’s okay,” in her ear. 

It seems to help - she’s still wailing, but it’s muffled in Zolf’s neck and he can feel the shaking lessen the longer he holds her for.

Erika cries it all out before long; Zolf lets out a sigh of relief when she quiets to soft hiccoughs against his shoulder, but he still doesn’t put her back down. Honestly, all things considered? Could have been a lot worse. The entire tantrum had only lasted a couple of minutes, really, and now Zolf might only have one hand to use, since the other is preoccupied with keeping Erika comfortable on his hip, but he’ll take this over screaming child in line at the shops. 

The line keeps moving forward, as slowly as ever, and Zolf moves with it. The lady who’d stayed behind - Doris, she’d introduced herself as - stands with him as well, alternating between shooting affectionate looks at Erika and chatting about inane things with Zolf. He appreciates the company - and having no one looking at him anymore, of course. Some of the looks had been sympathetic, but most had been judgmental or outright annoyed. 

They finally get up to the front and Zolf does his best to check out with one hand - Doris helps where she can, and Zolf thanks her. The cashier is a sweetheart, probably mostly in part because Zolf has a softly whimpering child on his hip, but they get through the process relatively painlessly. “Here, let us help you with that,” Sandra - or maybe Doris - says. No, it’s definitely Sandra - she’s the one who left to handle their own groceries, and she’s back with a handful of bags. “Doris, love, give a girl a hand?”

Doris goes over and grabs a bag, setting it gently on the ground. “Now, you go on and put the little dear in the car. We’ll get your groceries in the boot.”

“Thank you so much,” he says, grateful beyond expression. Erika is fast asleep, tears drying on her face with her arms looped loosely around Zolf’s neck. “I had no clue what to do.”

“Oh, love, we’ve both been through our fair share of tantrums with our kids and grandkids. You were doing a fair pass, but sometimes they just need to cry it out,” Doris - definitely Doris - says, brushing some of Erika’s hair out of her face. “She seems a lovely girl - you’re lucky you got a good’un.”

“Yeah, ah - she’s not mine, really, but -“

Doris raps her knuckles on the side of his head. “She’s as good as - and if you think otherwise, me and Sandra will come back to haunt you. Wisen up, there.”

Zolf rubs the side of his head but nods, and goes to put Erika in her car seat. He’s as gentle as he can possibly be, interminably careful as he buckles her in, terrified of waking her up. Thankfully, she sleeps on, and he pulls a tissue out of his pocket, gently wiping the tears and snot off of her face. Erika cleaned up, he stands, tucking the tissue back, and turns to finish helping the ladies piling his groceries into the boot. 

“Really, thank you,” Zolf says, grabbing the last few bags and hefting them in himself. “Is there anything I could do to repay you?” 

Both of the women laugh and shake their heads.

“No, dearie, no. Don’t worry about a thing,” Doris says, leaning over and planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Strapping young man such as yourself? Why, we simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” Sandra winks, patting him on the opposite cheek. Zolf smiles, awkward as ever, and Sandra titters. “Oh, you’re just a doll, aren’t you? Best of luck with the little one, love, and don’t fret. You’re doing wonderfully.”

Zolf isn’t completely sold on that point, but arguing it just feels _rude. _So, he smiles and nods, and the two old biddies reach out and pull him into a hug before heading off on their own. He slides into the front seat of the car and tilts the mirror, glancing back at Erika, still sound asleep in the back. 

The drive home is peaceful; he’s got the music turned low so as to not wake her, and he rolls the windows down a bit to let the air in since it’s a pleasantly cool day. They pull into the garage for his flat and he parks, deciding the groceries can sit for a bit while he carries Erika inside. She doesn’t wake up until he goes to lay her down in her bed, taking off her shoes.

Erika shifts, sleepily, and blinks up at Zolf, before rubbing at her eyes. “Mommy?” she mumbles, voice thick with sleep, and Zolf stills.

“No, it’s just me. Zolf,” he whispers back. 

“Silly,” Erika says, still half-asleep, and snuggles under the covers. “You’re Daddy.”

He stalls, then. Because Erika has only called him _Zolf_ up until this point, and this means... something. He doesn’t want to make a thing about it - hell, Erika is only five, she probably doesn’t even _realize _it’s a thing, and she’s nearly asleep anyway, so. He won’t say anything. If it happens again, it happens, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. They don’t need to make something out of it. 

“Night, love,” he says, quietly, and Erika makes a content sound and nods, chest rising and falling slowly. He presses a kiss to her cheek and stands up, heading out of the room. Zolf shuts the door behind him and leans back against it, smiling to himself. He’d been content with just being _Zolf_ to Erika, had accepted that she’d not be calling him ‘dad’ or anything, and was fine with it. 

But, hearing that… his chest feels warm. Those two old hens down the shops knew what they were on about - Erika’s his daughter, now. And not just because of some ruddy paperwork or anything - Zolf’s her dad, and that’s all there is to it.

He’d dare anyone to try and take that away from him now. 

—

It’s a while before Zolf actually gets proper mad at Erika - for the first couple months, he was terrified of scaring her. Terrified of stepping over the line. of making her afraid in what’s supposed to be her home. So, he might have let her get away with a bit more than he should have; she’s still a right good kid, for what it’s worth, and he’s finally beginning to believe that he’s doing a good job with her. 

He’s good at reigning in his temper - he’s gotten better at it over the past few months, especially considering how trying some of it has been. 

But this, just. He’s tired, and he’d had to work a few double shifts, and Erika’s been staying over at Feryn’s for a few days while he deals with the extra work, and he’s just utterly _exhausted_, firing on no cylinders, and all he wants to do is go to sleep for ten years. 

They’re driving back from Feryn’s, who’d taken one look at Zolf and offered to let him stay in his guest room. Zolf has said no, because if he lays down he won’t get up for at least a day, and he has to get groceries and he has work again in too few hours, and he needs to get Erika to school, and and _and._

He says no. 

It’s not Erika’s fault, when it hits. It’s his. 

“Daddy, why is the sky blue?” she asks, and Zolf glances out of the window. The sky looks more grey to him, personally, but it _is_ London. He feels like he should know the answer to this question as well, and racks his brain to try and think. 

“Ah - it’s because of the light, I reckon. The way it passes through the atmosphere.”

“Why blue?” Erika asks, and Zolf sighs and shrugs. 

“I don’t know, Erika. Why don’t you ask Ms. Amélie in school tomorrow?”

Erika whinges in the backseat and folds her arms, sulking. “That’s so _far away_,” she says under her breath. 

Zolf shrugs. “Sorry, kiddo, I can’t be much help.” 

“But you’re a grownup! You’re s’posed to know,” she says, leaning forward and staring at the side of Zolf’s head.

“I really don’t know,” Zolf says. 

“Why not?”

“Why don’t I _know?” _Zolf asks, more than a little incredulously, and Erika nods as he glances in the rear-view mirror. “Because I don’t.”

“But _why?” _Erika asks again, and Zolf clenches the wheel a bit tighter. 

“Erika, just _ask your teacher -“_

“But what if I forget?” she exclaims. “Tomorrow is so far away, Daddy, I won’t remember! Why can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t _know -“_

“Why _not -“_

“Because, Erika! I don’t know all the answers, so if I say I don’t know, I don’t know, and you can’t keep asking me _why!” _he yells, finally, an explosion that can no longer be contained to the inside of his head. And in the split-second after the dam breaks, Zolf feels a rush of guilt, intermingled with pure exhaustion, and he glances in the rear-view mirror just in time to see Erika’s face scrunch up, upset and confused as she leans back in the seat, wrapping her arms around her legs. 

“Oh,” she says quietly, and Zolf feels like a complete heel as she looks out the window, letting out a breath. 

The rest of the ride is silent, but for the soft music playing on the radio. Erika doesn’t say anything and neither does Zolf, rapping his palm anxiously against the steering wheel as he heads down the road. They pull into the garage and Zolf’s out of the car first, running a hand through his hair and swearing when he remembers that’d he’d put it up for work what feels like days ago. 

He walks around the door to Erika’s side and sighs, small pool of guilt settled in his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” he says gruffly, opening the door for Erika to get out. She doesn’t move, still sitting there with her school bag on her lap, and Zolf rubs the back of his neck again before crouching down next to the car. Erika still doesn’t move or even look at him, staring straight ahead as she sniffles. 

“I miss mummy,” Erika says, and her lip starts wobbling dangerously as she curls up into herself more, arms wrapping around her knees. “_I miss mummy.”_

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Zolf says, wishing he could do… anything, and leans into the car to wrap his arms around Erika’s back as she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, tears staining his shirt. “I’m so sorry.” He rubs her back as she lets it out. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I promise I’m not mad, and that I love you, and that you’re not in trouble. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.” 

Erika doesn’t respond beyond continuing to cry, but her body stops shaking as much and her arms slowly come up around his neck. His thighs are starting to cramp, and the prosthetic is super uncomfortable in this position, but he’s not moving until Erika is ready to go. 

“Is this alright?” he asks, and Erika nods against his shoulder. Zolf continues to hold her tightly, and Erika cries herself to sleep eventually, going limp in Zolf’s arms, and he stands up, careful not to jostle her. He covers her head with his hand, careful of the car door and moving slowly. His shoulder is still slightly damp, when he rises, and Erika lolls slightly as he manoeuvres her out. 

She must have been tired too - she probably hasn’t had a nap yet today, and if this is the extent of the meltdown he gets, he’ll take it. 

He opens the door and makes the way down to his flat, slipping inside and watching out to be sure he doesn’t accidentally knock her into anything. 

It’s an easy trip to her room, one he’s made enough times with her in his arms that he could do it blind, and he gently lays her down before nudging her shoes off and pulling the blankets up over her head. She doesn’t wake up through any of it, hair spreading around her on the pillow. Zolf takes a moment to brush some of it off her forehead and chews his lip, before heading out of the room.

He - he hasn’t really thought about how to deal with the whole Janice abandoning her thing. He’d just… Erika had seemed so well-adjusted for a five-year-old, hadn’t seemed to have many questions. Zolf had just assumed Bette had told her everything, had been working with her while Erika was still stuck in foster care. It had never occurred to him that she might be bottling it up, whether she might _need _to talk about it. And Zolf’s no therapist, but he’s been going to one for long enough that he’s not as scared of Big Conversations as he used to be. 

He’ll have to talk to her about it sometime - lying isn’t an option - he knows kids are smarter than most people give them credit for, and it would only get harder and harder to talk about it the older she gets. 

There’s no better time than now, he realizes, so when dinner is nearly ready to go and it’s gone half five, Zolf slips into Erika’s room and sits on the edge of her bed, shaking her gently until she shifts, waking up.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Zolf says quietly, and Erika sits up, rubbing at her eyes. 

“Daddy? Is it dinnertime?” she asks, and Zolf shakes his head, scooting up the bed. Erika blinks a few times, still a little bleary. 

“Yeah - ah, almost, but I wanted to talk to you first,” he says, and Erika makes a small humming noise, pulling the covers up around her as she sits back against the bed. She still looks half-asleep but she’s definitely listening, eyes locked in him as he talks. 

“You’ve been here for a while, nearly nine months, now, and I just… you can always ask me questions, alright? I’m sorry I yelled earlier, ‘kay?” Erika nods.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and Zolf tilts his head. 

“What on earth for?” he asks, genuinely confused, and Erika shrugs. 

“You were angry earlier. I’m sorry.”

And _gods_, if Zolf’s heart doesn’t just break at that. “No, sweetheart, you - Erika, listen. You don’t have to apologize. I was in the wrong here, okay? I’m sorry for being angry. This isn’t your fault.”

“Okay,” Erika says, a small smile ghosting across her face. 

“Is there… anything else you want to talk about?” Zolf asks, and clenches the sheets in his fist as he fights the urge to run away. Erika nods, a little hesitantly, and plays with some of the fuzz lifting off of her duvet.

“Daddy… how come mummy left me with you?” Erika asks, and Zolf sighs. He knew the question was coming, prepped for it even, but it’s not easy to explain to a kid why they were abandoned. 

“I’m - I don’t know. Me and Janice never really… we weren’t close. We didn’t talk much, I’m not sure why she chose me to be your guardian, but you’re here, and I’m here, and I need you to know that I want you here, okay?” Zolf says, and there’s a lump in his throat that he can’t quite talk around, but he owes this to her.

Erika nods. “Okay,” she says. “Does this mean I can go to Monica’s house next weekend? She asks, and Zolf can’t help the laugh that’s pulled out of him. 

“Yeah, you - yeah. You can. Love you, Erika,” he says, smiling over at her, eyes a little misty as he pulls her into a tight hug. 

“I love you too, daddy,” she says, and buries herself closer, tucked into his side. Dinner might be getting a little cold, but it’s fine. Zolf can microwave it, and this is a bit more important than the meat pies he’s made. They’ll keep.

—

Falling asleep to the telly after dinner has become a bit of a routine for Zolf, it seems. It hadn’t started until after Erika had moved in, but now each night they settle in to watch whatever BBC programme is on and Erika ends up falling asleep against his side while Zolf tries (usually in vain) to stay awake through the end. 

On this particular night, they’re watching a re-run of Bake Off while sharing a bowl of popcorn, and both Zolf and Erika are critiquing the soggy bottoms (a phrase they both find _hilarious_, which Zolf should maybe stop encouraging, but he can’t hear it without cackling, and that usually sets Erika off as well). 

He isn’t sure when he drops off, only that one of the contestants - he’s not sure who, honestly, he hasn’t been paying close enough attention, had a meltdown about baked Alaska. When Zolf wakes up a few hours later, it’s dark outside, but for the intermittent street lamps, and the telly is quietly playing some old rerun he doesn’t recognize. He yawns, and checks his phone - it’s only a bit past midnight, and his shift doesn’t start until noon, so he still has time to get some sleep. He moves to get up, only just realizing in time that there’s a small weight on his chest, and he glances down to see Erika’s spiky hair nearly brushing his chin. Her head is propped up on his chest and she’s tucked close into his side, letting out little snores as she breathes in and out. 

They’ve both come a long way, Zolf realizes, staring down at her small form. She’s looking a lot more comfortable than she had when she’d first gotten here. Erika’d never been _scared_, really, but she carries herself with more confidence now, and she’s much chattier, more open than she’d been at the beginning. 

And, god, she’s almost going to be moving to Year 2 soon.

A weight settles on Zolf’s heart, and he’s filled with a fierce sense of protection and love as he looks down at her. It’s not a bad weight, no - completely the opposite. It’s a commitment, one that he’s had for a while and cemented in place. If you’d told Zolf he’d be basically a dad at this time a year ago, he would have laughed in your face. He hadn’t seen himself becoming a father anytime soon, regardless of the fact that he hasn’t even been interested in anyone, well… for longer than he cares to admit. 

Erika had come into his life, and it had become a whirlwind of picking schools and scheduling babysitters and figuring out how to balance a job and a child and a whole host of other struggles that Zolf had worked his way through with the help of everyone he cares about - everyone who cares about him and Erika. 

Maybe just for tonight, they can kip out on the couch. He’ll just wake Erika up if he tries to move her, and he’s pretty comfortable as is. So, he settles back into the couch - his entire body will ache tomorrow, but it’ll be fine. 

So, yeah, maybe a year ago Zolf wouldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe he’d have a kid, wouldn’t believe he’d have such a _good_ kid, and that he hasn’t fucked up irrevocably. Wouldn’t have imagined any of this, really.

But now, with Erika passed out on his chest, programme still playing quietly in the background… Zolf can’t imagine his life being any other way. 

And he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> whats sasha’s job? who knows. not even me. i promise there’s a reason azu grizzop hamid and cel haven’t shown up yet
> 
> the logistics of adopting someone in this day and age is. hhhh. also writing children is SO HARD jaime how did u do it
> 
> p.s. a deleted scene i couldn’t fit in anywhere:   
“Da-ad, stop, your beard is itchy,” Erika whines, pushing Zolf away with her hands as he kisses her cheek. “Daddy! Stop!”


End file.
